


Clarity

by Fierceawakening



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An older exploration of how Megatron and Thundercracker interact. TC has finally grown fed up with Earth and everything on it, and Megatron restores his clarity - through good old-fashioned Decepticon discipline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

Thundercracker fought to keep his wings from drooping. He could think of a hundred places he would rather be than here. But revealing any hesitation would only make things worse.

Especially since the others were paying such close attention to him lately. Starscream and Skywarp always noticed when he brooded more than usual, but even other Decepticons were making comments these days.

"You called for me, my lord?" Thundercracker said, a slight catch in his voice. He walked with carefully measured steps toward his leader's throne and lowered himself to one knee.

"Yes," the other said, his optics flashing crimson as he looked the Seeker over. "You have been... less than enthusiastic about your duties of late, it seems."

The silver mouth twisted into a slight frown. Thundercracker's wings twitched. This mildness didn't make sense.

Everything Megatron did, he had a reason for. Whatever Thundercracker thought of most of those things.

Seeing his leader's head turn slightly, he willed his wings to stillness as Megatron spoke again.

"Even your own trinemates have noticed your aloofness these days."

The bright optics fixed on Thundercracker's. Thundercracker raised his head, staring directly at the other. If Megatron already knew what he'd been thinking, seeming ashamed or weak would only make this worse.

Megatron drummed his dark fingers against the arm of the throne. "Starscream tells me you have doubts about our purpose here."

"And you believe him? My lord, Starscream is -" His wings twitched again, in spite of his attempts to maintain control.

 _Starscream is Starscream,_ he wanted to say. But to express disapproval in such informal terms would be totally inappropriate.

Especially when the mech in question was the leader of his trine.

"- my lord, you of all mechs know how Starscream twists the truth when it serves his purposes."

"Indeed." Megatron smirked. "Or lies."

Thundercracker nodded, relieved.

Megatron stepped closer, his gaze lingering on Thundercracker's faintly quivering wings.

"But you do not say he has lied. You say he twists the truth. To which the obvious response is 'What truth did he bend, and how far?'"

The Seeker winced, racking his processor for some clever response that might satisfy his leader. After a long moment, he settled for honesty instead.

"It's this planet, my lord," he finally blurted, his wings clicking.

"This planet is rich in resources."

The Seeker's engines roared, a deafening rumble. He could see Megatron's optics narrow at the sound, but he ignored his leader's irritation. He'd already managed to damn himself. Might as well go all the way.

"This planet is disgusting. The surface is crawling with flightless organic vermin, and even the skies are crowded with biological fliers that only get in the way."

Megatron growled a warning. Thundercracker could barely hear it over the sound of his own engines.

"And that's not even mentioning these forms we've taken to hide. Primitive, backward technology. I can't even stand to look in anything reflective any more. And after so long, it - it's not a disguise. It's nothing but an insult."

Seeing Megatron's frown, he shook his head.

"My lord, can't we - can't we leave this place? Can't we start anew somewhere else, somewhere far away from these revolting creatures?"

His optics brightened, a sudden thought coming to him. "And from their Autobot defenders."

Megatron stood up, stepping close - too close! - to the Seeker, whose wings twitched in agitation.

"The Autobots would follow us if we left. They have made it their primary function to get in our way. Leaving would do nothing."

The dark fist clenched, the red optics flickering as they focused on the Seeker's wing.

 _I'm not Starscream,_ Thundercracker thought. _Don't try it._

If Megatron did hit him, he wasn't sure which would be more shameful. To submit to the punishment, as though he agreed that the Decepticons should _stay_ on this horrible, mud-crusted, vermin-infested rock. As though his withdrawing from the others had been nothing more than one of Starscream's sulking fits. As though he'd done it all to provoke Megatron into reminding him of his place, and nothing more.

Or to defy his leader, lose, and find himself brought low by blows and words that cut him down just as easily as they did the leader of his trine.

And he would lose. He knew that. He fought well enough in battle, his careful tactics enabling him to fool unwary enemies often. He took great pride in his ability to outwit them, and even other Decepticons who disliked his distant manner grudgingly admitted he was one of their best.

But being one of the best didn't make him the best. He could not even defeat Starscream in sparring. His trine leader was unpredictable and prone to flights of temper, but when he was in full fighting form, Starscream was as brilliant as he was powerful.

And if he could not even consistently defeat Starscream, surely he was no match for Megatron, who Starscream challenged constantly and only earned impressive new dents for his efforts.

"My lord," he protested halfheartedly. "I -"

The dark fist connected hard with the sensitive, thin metal of the blue Seeker's wing. He gasped and cried out before he could stop himself. Enemies had injured his wings before, of course, and allies had aimed for them in sparring.

This was different, somehow. A pure and intense shock of pain, dealt by one who knew quite well he'd have to succumb to it. Even if he fought, he would have to take it eventually.

He fell fully to his knees, his engines roaring again. Whether with rage or despair, he could not tell.

Megatron drew back his other fist and did the same to Thundercracker's other wing, harder. Shock flared through the Seeker's systems as the impact flared through his sensor net.

Thundercracker shook his head carefully, as unobtrusively as he could manage, to clear it. Megatron was speaking again, and he struggled to focus on the words. As insignificant as the damage was, the throbbing in his wings filled his processor.

"Tell me, Seeker, if you are so certain what we should do. Where shall we go? Have you researched another destination for us, or would you have us wander through space simply to ease your discomfort?"

Thundercracker's optics gleamed in alarm. Megatron was right. He had no plan. Most thoughtful of his trine, and he had nothing in mind. Nothing beyond _Sweet Primus get me out of here I hate this place I think I'm going mad._ If he had devised a plan, he would have shared it, rather than flying off like a coward to be alone.

Rumbling with determination, the Seeker raised his aching wings. Better to face what was coming with dignity than to let them droop, conquered by the pain.

Starscream took this all the time, and Thundercracker refused to prove weaker than his wingmate. He said nothing, but lifted his head, staring back at the face glaring at him.

He was rewarded with a small smirk.

"Nothing to say, then?"

"No, my lord," the Seeker answered, keeping his gaze even. He deserved this. He understood that now.

The silver mech rumbled softly, a small sound under the roar of Thundercracker's engines. He drew back his hand with exaggerated slowness, then drove it even harder into the wing in front of it.

The punches that followed were no longer slow and deliberate. One blow followed another, giving the Seeker no time to recover from the previous impact. He felt the metal of his wings give as the blows rained down on them, the sensitive metal crumpling again and again in an endless blur of pain. He knew neither where it began nor where it ended, his circuits lit with agony.

In the midst of it, there was no room for his bitter thoughts. There was only the flare of sensation, shaking him, tearing at him, loosening up the bitterness that had built up inside his processor like sludge inside his engines.

Each time those dark fists connected, he could feel one of his doubts fall away.

Nothing replaced them. That should, he knew, have unnerved him. Somehow, staring at the bright silver of his leader's face, the narrowed, glinting optics as Megatron deliberately dealt him this pain, he did not feel afraid. He felt only... empty, gloriously empty, ready to be filled by whatever vision and promise took hold of him first.

He had felt it once before, long ago, when Megatron had seized power. When he had heard his leader's speeches, promising war and glory. Promising conflicts that would challenge and perfect them all, ordeals they would face and conquer, fierce purpose flaring in their optics and whirling in their sparks.

He had considered longer than his trine mates. Starscream had flown to Megatron's side first, impetuous as always. Skywarp had come next, eager to prove useful to someone as impressive as the silver mech his wingmate served.

And Thundercracker, in the end, had joined them. He'd claimed it was because he could not bear separation from his trine, but that was not so. He had waited vorns for a true challenge, for something that would reforge and improve him. For a purpose and a vision that would perfect him.

Now, his bitterness falling away like rust being scraped from his frame, he wondered why he had ever doubted that purpose.

Oh, he still hated this planet. He always would. He would never be truly happy, not as long as this war raged on so unworthy a battlefield.

It would anger him again, he was sure. Cloud his processor and fill his vision with bitter, angry static.

But Megatron was right. Leaving would do no good. Not to mention the shame it would bring them all to fly from their enemy when they had put so much effort, already, into vanquishing them. And if they did fly away, all of the shame in it would fall on Thundercracker's own head for wanting so badly to flee.

He sighed, the pain of the beating flaring through his circuitry, bright as the flash of his spark when he truly was being tested.

"My lord," he said finally, bowing his head, his voice clear through the pain.


End file.
